


The Toad King

by the_seaworthy_muffin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur as a Royal Toad, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Spells & Enchantments, True Love's Kiss, You wouldn't even imagine, accidental magic, because they have to break the spell somehow, but sure knows how to make his presence known, he can't speak, roughly dub-con notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_seaworthy_muffin/pseuds/the_seaworthy_muffin
Summary: Arthur is being even more prattish than usual, and when Merlin’s magic takes his words a bit too literally, Merlin ends up turning his king into a toad. And, according to Gaius (and one certain very large unhelpful flying lizard), he’s going to be stuck there until Merlin manages to find his One True Love and make them kiss!Join Merlin as he attempts to match-make Arthur the Toad with Gwen, maidservants of questionable repute, some knights, and even a bandit or two- and, finally, comes to realize a long-denied secret of his heart.Mostly fluff and humor, with a dollop of adventuring thrown in.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 198





	1. The Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> I am back already! I have no excuse, except that fic is eating up my life, and that it's winter vacation. :D  
> This is already finished and (roughly) self-edited, so- ready to go! Updates will be every three days- for example, if I upload a new chapter Monday, the next update will be on Thursday.  
> *WARNINGS* for slight dub-con themes! Arthur must kiss his 'one true love' to break the spell, and though Arthur has an idea as to who it may be (XD) Merlin is ridiculously oblivious. So, while Arthur doesn't wish to go about kissing half the citadel, Merlin has different ideas, and he does take some measures to make sure Arthur complies. I think I covered those scenes in a vaguely humorous manner, and there isn't much explicit description (except in Gwaine's case, but I blame, well, Gwaine) - but if these themes may make you uncomfortable you may want to proceed carefully. Nothing untoward though, I hope.  
> That said- please enjoy, and please do take the time to drop a comment to let me know what you thought if you did!   
> p.s. disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, nor am I making any money out of this venture. :)

Arthur had been spectacularly prattish over the past week. (And yes, it _is_ a word, whatever Arthur may have to say about it.) So, it isn’t too much of a surprise that Merlin blows his figurative fuse and ends up doing something he ends up really, really regretting.

Arthur had resorted to delegating Merlin a foot-long list of chores that no-one could ever hope to finish using conventional means. Using magic for chores had become more of a necessity than a luxury, and Merlin had to keep looking over his shoulders during every minute of it, because if Arthur ever caught him at it he’d undoubtedly have snorted at his ‘laziness’ and somehow found a way to torment him even further.

He kicked Merlin out of his chambers because he ‘didn’t want to be tortured by his presence any longer’. He sent Merlin on ridiculous errands all across the citadel. And then, when Merlin returned, huffing and puffing and sweaty all over, he levered him with a very seriously considering look before telling him that his ears were ridiculous, cheekbones emaciated, and nostrils like those of a donkey.

Merlin ended up tripping Arthur over his own slippers that day. But he did look up several spells for exorcisms, in case of both trolls and goblins, just in case. He also made sure to locate and mark a page in his spell-book with the classic Toad Curse. Nothing to help Arthur’s condition, of course; but it did make his days that much better.

Merlin ought to have kept a more careful lid on his temper. He hadn’t been completely ignorant about his power, at that point, and he _was_ aware that some rather terrifying things could happen if he were to completely _let go_.

But then again, Merlin had never been one for subtlety, had he?

The day the King of Camelot gets turned into a toad goes a little bit like this.

+

Gaius is away doing rounds in the lower town. There have been rumors of a hacking cough spreading about the lower towns, and, it being the middle of winter, it has the potential to grow into something possibly lethal. And so Merlin is alone, humming tunelessly as he dusts the cupboards and labels potion bottles, reveling in the peace that solitude brings-

Then Arthur barges in, and promptly begins to annoy the ever-living hell out of Merlin.

Apparently, bossiness and inherent pratliness aren’t traits that one can conveniently suppress. Merlin is beginning to have a nagging suspicion that Arthur goes to secretly catch up on his depleted sources of pratliness every night, when everyone else is sound asleep. It’s amazing how far he can stretch the word’s definition.

A strand of burnished-gold hair falls across Arthur’s strong brow as he leans down to peek at Merlin’s work over his shoulder. The strand glints pale yellow in the morning light, and Merlin bites his lip. Now, if that prat just stopped looking so aggravatingly _distracting……_

“I rather think that label is hanging a bit off-kilter, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur drawls.

Merlin takes a deep breath and counts backwards from ten. “I _know_. You only told me twenty times this morning.” And he had; Merlin is actually beginning to prefer when Arthur kept kicking him out of his chambers. And that label hadn’t been the only thing Arthur commented on, too.

“Maybe you ought to fix it, then.”

There. That smug grin that never fails to make Merlin’s blood race and-

_No_. Face inexplicably reddened, Merlin slams his palm down on the table. The bottles waiting to be labeled, arranged in neat orderly lines near the edge of his work-bench, bounce and rattle around. “It doesn’t _matter_ , because you can still read what they say, can’t you!”

Arthur raises a brow. “It’s not like it’s that difficult for you.” And then he proceeds to do that horrid finger-wiggle, which Merlin supposes Arthur thinks is a passing-good imitation for the hand gestures of magic. He wants to scream. And preferably bash Arthur over the head while he’s at it.

“Arthur, I am not using magic to straighten a label.” Merlin says, very slowly. Arthur pouts, petulant. And oh gods his lips- Merlin bites down on his own, hard, and turns back towards his work. I will not be distracted. I will _not_.

“Why not?” says Arthur.

“Because, Arthur, it’s a bloody waste of time and energy, and I told you the only important thing is that you be able to tell what bloody kind of potion it is! Now let me go back to work in peace, or I swear I am going to turn you into something despicable. I know the spell and everything.”

Arthur, uncharacteristically chagrined, meanders over to sit a little way off to Merlin’s right. A faint twinge of guilt plucks at Merlin’s gut. Maybe he had been a little harsh, there. It’s not like Arthur can really help himself being a prat, after all. It’s second nature. Like a dragon needing to breathe fire. Or a selkie needing to swim.

And then Arthur pokes at Merlin, again, and the annoyance is back as if it had never even been gone.

“ _Mer_ lin-“

“ _What!_ ” Merlin roars, aggravated beyond belief. “Toad, Arthur! I warned you!”

Merlin’s eyes widen as he feels his magic leave him in a heady rush.

Almost similar, he thinks, with dawning horror, to when he casts a spell. A particularly powerful one, at that.

Merlin has spent his entire life learning how to rein in his magic. He ought to have gotten a good handle over it by now.

But he hasn’t, and he watches with morbid fascination as a flat, green head emerges from amongst Arthur’s heap of crumpled clothes.

It croaks.

“Oh, no,” Merlin whispers, jamming his hand against his mouth. This cannot be happening. _Cannot_. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.”

Arthur Pendragon, the rightful king of Camelot, the prophesied One and Future King-

Has just been turned into a toad.

+

Arthur, unsurprisingly, makes quite the handsome toad.

He isn’t mottled like most toads are, his ridged skin instead covered in a deep, rich green-brown. There’s a little splotch of bronze near his head that Merlin reckons must be the remnants of his golden hair. Merlin runs a finger down Arthur-the-toad’s skin, reveling in how distractingly soft it is. _Weren’t toads supposed to be disgusting?_

It doesn’t take Arthur long to catch on to his state, and he glares indignantly at Merlin for a while before he goes right back to bossing Merlin around, hopping up and down on his boot and butting at his ankles with his head. The difficult part, it turns out, is communication.

Merlin flips through his spell-book, to no avail. It seems no sorcerer sane enough to write a book had actually had active need of conversing with a toad. Arthur seems to be yelling something at the top of his lungs, but all Merlin can hear is a particularly passionate (and angry-sounding) series of croaks.

Eventually, they do find a feasible way of communication. It does take a large toll out of Arthur, however.

Merlin watches, fond and a little guilty, as Arthur hops furiously all over the piece of parchment on which Merlin had scribbled every letter of the alphabet.

_Do you know how I go back_ , Merlin makes out, before Arthur rolls over onto his back, webbed feet to the sky, completely and utterly worn out. Merlin bites his lip. But he’d promised Arthur, after his magic had come to light- _no more secrets. Not between them_.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. That was completely unintentional and-“

Toad-Arthur’s legs sag a little, as if in despair. Merlin nudges at Arthur’s limp form with a finger, feeling like wringing his hands and running into his room to hide for a fortnight. How exactly does he manage to trap himself in these sorts of situations?

And then he realizes how fast toads really can move, as Arthur leaps up with deceptive speed and _crunches_ on Merlin’s finger as if he’s trying to take the whole thing off.

_Ah, well,_ Merlin thinks, as he bandages his bruised finger with a bit of gauze, Arthur’s baleful gaze boring into him from his snug spot on Merlin’s shoulder. _Always did have a bit of a vengeful streak, did Arthur_.

But, good gods, it hurts.

+

Gaius is still down at the lower town, and there’s no plausible way to call Kilgharrah while daylight still remains- the people of Camelot would undoubtedly go into a panic. As would Merlin, really, were he to see the giant machine of destruction who had wreaked havoc upon his home sailing serenely across the sky.

Merlin’s book isn’t much help, either, since all it has is the curse but not the remedy. Though really, that doesn’t make any sense. Why teach something you can’t ever undo? That’s like selling a tunic without laces. Or stocks without keys. (A humbling, horrifying thought, that.)

“So I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Gaius is back,” Merlin says, stroking Arthur the toad’s back apologetically. He really should stop, but Arthur’s back is just so _soft_ ; and the little bumpy ridges are utterly addictive under his fingers. Or maybe it has a little to do with the way the toad still has Arthur’s characteristic, golden regality, for all that it’s a finger-demolishing Beast of Doom.

Arthur croaks.

“Later tonight,” Merlin adds, just to be safe. “In case you were wondering.”

Arthur sighs, flops onto his back, and looks expectantly up at Merlin. Merlin, sighing, picks him up and cradles him in his hands. Arthur closes his eyes and makes a rumbly sound that could well have been a purr. _Since when did toads purr?_

But Merlin’s eyes are fond, as he carries Arthur all the way back up the stairs and into the king’s customary chambers. The prat should be missing his giant feather-bed soon enough, after all.

+

Arthur is adamant that he should attend the morning’s council, which poses a bit of a… _problem_ , for Merlin.

“What’s _that_ , boy?” one of the council’s lords- Alcott, if Merlin remembers correctly- breathes, disgust written across every line of his heavy-jowled face. Arthur lets out a giant _croak_ and does a little toadly full-body tremble of rage.

There’s a cacophony of scraping chairs, as all of the other lords get up to get a better look. One lord or the other actually takes a physical step back, and Merlin presses down a sharp wave of indignity. Because, well, Arthur doesn’t look _that_ bad, does he? He’s actually rather good-looking, as far as toads go. Not that Merlin has seen enough to judge.

But.

Merlin wracks his brain for an excuse, cursing himself for not having thought this through more thoroughly. But there hadn’t been much time left until the council’s opening, forcing Merlin to dash ad full speed across the castle’s many corridors. And Arthur had been very, very insistent that he attend.

Merlin’s battered fingers are good testament to that.

“Well, er,” he says. “It’s-“ a flash of inspiration hits him, and Merlin smiles, hoping he won’t look too demented. “It’s- the Royal Toad.”

That had sounded a lot better in his head.

“Royal Toad?” Alcott’s eyebrows are in danger of flying off his face, what with how his face is contorted with barely-concealed flabbergasted-ness. “And what, pray tell, may that mean?”

“Umm,” Merlin says, “It’s the king’s pet toad.” Yes, that makes sense. Arthur never did like being the same as everyone else. Merlin bets there isn’t a single noble in Camelot who could claim to have a toad for a pet. “The king had to go do, umm, some urgent hunting, and so he sent the Royal Toad instead.”

The lord’s eyebrows are now sinking lower and lower. That _is_ a fearsome scowl, if Merlin may say so himself. Merlin is a pretty good judge of them. He gets treated to a plethora of them at Arthur’s hand, anyway.

“The king had to go do some urgent hunting.”

“Yes, my lord?” Merlin smiles, again, even though the grin turns manic the moment Arthur sets on nipping at Merlin’s fingers with a vengeance. What’s wrong for using it as an excuse for once, when Arthur used to love the damned thing so much anyway?

The lord huffs.

“You had better not be playing me for a fool, _boy,_ ” The lord hisses, jabbing a threatening finger at Merlin. Pungent breath hisses over Merlin, and Merlin has to try very hard not to burst into a cacophony of sneezes. Arthur, the sneaky little bugger, has commandeered Merlin’s neckerchief as some sort of miniature barrier.

The small weight at Merlin’s neck feels surprisingly reassuring.

“Of course not, sire,” Merlin says, bowing low enough to scrape the floor. Merlin may pride himself on not being a bootlicker of a servant, but he’s heard tales of punishment in other nobles’ households……

No, he’s not going to risk it. Especially when Arthur the Toad would (probably) only cheer them on.

Probably.

+

Arthur, even in the shape of a toad, somehow manages to play a giant role in the day’s council. He’d demanded a plush, tasseled cushion from Merlin (which had consisted not of communication but of much, much finger-nipping and nail-squashing until Merlin miraculously managed to figure out what the bloody prat wanted), and sat upon it, gazing down (up) at his scheming subjects like a king upon a throne.

Merlin thinks it would be safe to call it the strangest council meeting in Camelot’s history.

A few of the councilmen, wrapped up in a false sense of security at the ‘absence’ of the king, make some moves to press for an increase in tax rates. Anytime a similar proposal comes up, though, the newly-decreed Royal Toad bursts out into such a clanging discordant series of _croaks_ that no-one manages to get anything across.

“Could say it was the king himself watching us,” a suspicious old noble mutters as he makes his way out of the council chamber, crossing himself with his free hand. Merlin stifles a snort in his sleeve. _If only they knew_. 

Arthur nips Merlin in the neck, this time, from his vantage point on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin hisses.

“Look, you prat,” he says. “People are going to think it’s- a passion-bite, or something!”

Merlin had never known toads could look smug, but he swears Arthur just did.

+

Surprisingly, the Royal Toad is a great hit with the castle’s serving-girls.

“Oh, just _look_ at him,” Beth from the kitchens croons. She strokes a finger over the toad’s little head. “The Royal Toad, you said?”

“Umm, yeah,” Merlin says, seriously regretting having thought up such a ridiculous excuse. He couldn’t possibly have helped, though. It was the best idea he had. “Arthur left it behind in his stead, because he had to go hunting. For a week.”

“Oh.” Beth flutters her lashes a little. “D’you reckon he’d eat sweet-meats? Because I’d just been delivering some for Cook……”

That is just wrong, because Beth defends her deliveries with her life, and Merlin had been on the receiving end of her formidable ladle-and-basket combination more than once.

Arthur rolls over on his stomach and croaks happily.

“Sorry, we have _things_ to do,” Merlin hisses, suddenly incensed. He snatches Arthur out of Beth’s surprised hands and makes a point to stomp down the corridor as loudly as he could.

“No need to be jealous!” Beth calls, before hurrying off towards her own errand. Merlin blushes furiously, jabbing Arthur in the side for good measure.

“I’m not jealous,” Merlin mutters angrily.

Supercilious _prats_ , making trouble even after turning themselves into toads. Alright, maybe it was Merlin’s fault, but he’s not dwelling on that.

+

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says, because he really is; when all is said and done, he really should have kept better track of his magic, shouldn’t ever have had to put Arthur through wandering around as a frog for heavens-know-how-long. At least there’s the fact that Gaius will return by next morning, and hopefully he’ll be able to point Merlin towards a remedy.

Arthur croaks, surprisingly forgiving, and butts his head against Merlin’s hand.

Merlin smiles a little, and brushes a finger over the soft skin of Toad-Arthur’s head. Bumpy, yes, but still so _soft_.

They’re lying side-by-side in Merlin’s small, cramped bedroom, a small yellow light Merlin has conjured floating above them. Merlin had figured that he couldn’t possibly risk someone mistaking Arthur for a pest and sweeping him out into the gutters, because really, if Arthur vanished like _that_ , where would Merlin be? Merlin _needs_ the prat to keep him on his toes. And yes, he tells himself, that _is_ the only reason.

What other reason could there possibly be?

“I’m turning off the light now,” Merlin says softly, flicking his wrist. The light dims and them vanishes with a faint _hiss_ , leaving the room shrouded in soft, quiet darkness.

Merlin had never liked the dark, much, and the quiet of his room after Gaius’ departure had always made him think of dark corridors and echoing caves. But today, somehow- he doesn’t feel too alone.

Side by side, king and warlock drift peacefully of towards sleep.


	2. Guinevere (and Camelot’s fair, fierce serving-maids)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it that I'm always too brain-scrambled to think straight when I'm typing out A/N's? But really, I'm beginning to think I may just be cursed in that aspect. *shifty eyes*  
> Many thanks go out to all who have read&reviewed the first chapter, and hope that this chapter is enjoyable as well!

“Please don’t tell me you’ve decided to adopt a toad,” is what wakes Merlin the next morning. Merlin stirs a little, wiping a thin trail of definitely-not-drool away from his face. (What a ridiculous thought- really!) The voice seemed familiar, somehow. A little papery, warm, gruff……

“Gaius!” Merlin beams, dislodging Arthur (who had crawled onto Merlin’s chest and nestled there, overnight) in the process. He gets a kick to his ankle for his troubles. And goodness, Merlin had no idea that toads had such strong back legs. “You’re back!”

Gaius, to Merlin’s everlasting despair, has always had an uncanny sense for trouble. Especially of the Merlin-created variety. He arches one brow.

“Any reason why you’re so happy to see me back?”

“Oh.” Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it. Best to get these things over with quickly. “I may or may not have…… umm, turned someone into a toad.”

Gaius’ brow inches a little higher.

“And that may or may not be…… Arthur?”

Any higher, and that brow is going to shoot right off his face. Merlin hangs his head, peering up at Gaius from between his lashes. He’s sorry, he really, truly is (although the whole Royal Toad fiasco _was_ pretty hilarious, in hindsight)- and he’d reckon his contrite expression is quite the genuine one. Gaius sighs, settling himself down on a spare stool he keeps about for patients. His robe is dusty and travel-worn, his face drawn wan with fatigue; and now, it seems, from the way he’s rubbing his hands across his temples, he’s got a headache to boot.

“And how on earth did that happen?”

Merlin decides to give him the short version.

“Arthur was annoying me, so I’d threatened to turn him into a toad…… except, well, I hadn’t meant to, and my magic thought I did, and- here.” Merlin offers Gaius Arthur in two cupped hands. Arthur croaks, blinking, and dutifully hops across.

“My lord.” Gaius shakes his head. Arthur nuzzles into the old man’s hands, and Merlin glares at him, betrayed.

“He wasn’t that gentle with me last night!”

Gaius cuffs Merlin across his head with his spare hand. “Of course he wasn’t! You’d just turned him into a toad; no-one would, king or no. Now- what did you tell everyone about the king’s absence?”

“That-“

Arthur croaks threateningly.

“Oh, _fine!_ I told them Arthur was the Royal Toad that the king left behind in his stead, because he suddenly had the irrepressible urge to go on a week-long hunting trip.”

Gaius gives him a Look.

Merlin sighs, slithering down to rest against the wall. “I didn’t have any better ideas, you know.”

Gaius huffs in fond exasperation. “Truly, my boy, the things you get yourself into……” he shakes his head, handing Arthur carefully back to Merlin. “Well, what are you waiting for, then? Go! You musn’t garner anymore suspicion than necessary- though heaven knows I ought to be worried for this citadel, with how they apparently bought this absurd story of yours.”

“Go?”

“Arthur’s chambers, or wherever a Royal Toad ought to be resting. Now hurry along! I’ll do some research; hopefully I’ll have a remedy for you by high noon.”

+

Merlin opens Arthur’s chamber doors to one of the strangest sights he has ever seen. Two maidservants are bent beside a trolley, dutifully unloading plates upon plates of- are those sausages?- onto Arthur’s empty table.

“The king is away,” Merlin manages to say, after a short, stunned silence. The maidservants hush him.

“Of course we know! The word’s spread, you know. But Cook sent us up with breakfast for the Royal Toad. If it’s the king’s loyal pet, then it ought to be treated with as much respect as the king himself, you know.”

“But toads eat _bugs,_ ” Merlin protests. One of the maidservants give him a dirty look.

“Only the best for him,” she sniffs, and then they’re out of the door.

Merlin’s stomach growls. By the gods, those sausages smell _heavenly……_

With a loud, satisfying-sounding _croak_ , Arthur hops onto the table, nuzzling against a sausage.

“You can’t eat that, you know,” Merlin admonishes, carefully pushing Arthur’s surprisingly sticky tongue away. “You’re going to make yourself sick. But myself, now……”

Arthur must have caught the possessive glint in Merlin’s eye, because he blocks the way towards the sausages with a loud croak.

“Goodness, help yourself, then! But I won’t be responsible if you end up bursting your belly, you big bully.”

Merlin’s mouth snaps shut. “Wait. Sorry. I don’t ever want your belly to burst. But that was definitely uncalled for- _Arthur!_ ”

Struggling against Arthur, who’s devoutly trying to down some scrambled eggs, Merlin wonders since when this was his life.

He’s really, really hoping Gaius has found a remedy by now.

+

After a long, drudging morning with the knights, Merlin finally makes his way up the staircase towards his and Gaius’ chambers.

Gwaine had guffawed so hard he’d nearly bruised his arse falling backwards, and even stoic Percival had been hard-pressed to hold back a smile. Arthur the toad, though, had been a demanding task-master, and every single one of the knights who lost against their sparring partner had been treated to a painful nip to the fingers (removal of gauntlet absolutely required, of course.) Merlin swears he’d seen a considering glint in Gwaine’s eyes, later on. He doesn’t dwell on it. He has enough on his plate without adding on a suspicious knight, and hell, if anyone is to discover his (and Arthur’s) secret, Gwaine probably is the best candidate.

When he finally arrives and pushes the door in, Gaius beckons him forward, pushing a book towards him.

“Is this the spell you used?”

“Possibly,” Merlin answers, letting Arthur hop onto the table so as to get a better view of the book. “I didn’t actually speak the incantation, you know. It just sort of- happened. But it _is_ the one I’d looked up, just the day before.”

Arthur lets out an indignant squawk and kicks Merlin’s wrist, hard. Merlin winces.

“Ouch! If you must know, it was because you were being even more of a gigantic prat than usual! What were you thinking, anyway, sending me halfway across the citadel for a silk scarf you threw away as soon as you got it? I do know what goes into your trash, you know.”

Arthur edges away, looking a little contrite. Gaius raises a brow. “Quite finished?”

“Yes,” Merlin says, meekly, and plops himself down onto the workbench. _Goddess_ , it’s hot today. Even Arthur’s covered with a faint sheen that isn’t quite sweat.

“Alright. So, if that is the case, I may have a remedy.” Gaius pauses. He only does that when things are very, very bad.

Merlin bites his lip. “But?”

“You must find his one true love,” he intones solemnly, “and make them kiss.”

“One true love?”

“Well, apparently.”

“But Arthur’s a _toad_.” Merlin’s brain is racing. Kissing the prat would be a chore on the worst of days- ( _maybe not so much_ , a little voice in his head whispers gleefully. Merlin firmly tramps it down.) and Arthur as a toad?

They’re doomed. Camelot is going to fall because her king is stuck as a toad.

“I don’t even know if Arthur had been seeing anyone,” Merlin sighs, burying his face in his hands. “What if he hasn’t any- say, ‘true love’s?”

Gaius shrugs, pale eyes boring into Merlin’s.

“Then, my boy,” he says, “Camelot is _doomed_.”

Arthur lets out a little, hiccup-y _croak_ , jumping over to paste himself tight to Merlin’s side.

“Where do I _start?_ ” Merlin cries, in a voice verging on a wail. Gaius taps his fingertips against his chin, considering.

“I’d suggest Guinevere,” he says. Merlin’s eyes widen.

“But she’s courting Lancelot!”

Gaius’ expression is compassionate but stern. “You must do all you can to reverse the spell,” he intones.

“I can’t endanger my friends’ love life like that!”

“Well, then I suggest you consider, but consider quickly,” Gaius says, turning back towards his book. “Because Camelot won’t last long without her king.”

Merlin groans.

+

An afternoon of furious pacing, a terrible headache, and three demolished flower-stalks later (don’t ask), Merlin finds himself outside Guinevere’s chambers.

Arthur had made his thoughts on this endeavor very clear on their way, and Merlin thinks he may well have fractured a bone from the way Arthur has been stamping about on his palm. Merlin sets Arthur down on the floor, crouching down to glare at him.

“You could be a bit more grateful, you know,” Merlin mutters. “After all, this is all so you could- _Arthur_!”

Since when could toads run so fast? Arthur makes a giant leap out of Merlin’s open palm, landing with a faint plop on the floor. He promptly bounds across the hallway, vanishing down a steep flight of stairs. Merlin huffs, scrambling after Arthur.

“Wait up! Arthur, you royal prat-“

Even as an amphibian, Arthur must make a particularly muscular one. Merlin has a niggling doubt that Arthur the toad may well be able to best him in a fair fight of strength. (Or endurance. Endurance, most definitely, because Merlin is desperately huffing for breath and Arthur still hasn’t faltered one bit.

Merlin cheats, eventually, sending out a tendril of magic to drag Arthur back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, nuzzling Arthur with a finger. “I really didn’t want to use magic on you like this. But I did have to do bring you back, didn’t I? It’s your best hope, as of now.” Merlin peers down at Arthur, suddenly suspicious. The idea of kissing Guinevere couldn’t possibly be _that_ repulsive, excepting her current fairy-tale involvement with Lancelot. But maybe……

“Wait. Do you- do you have some girl you’ve been seeing? One of the maids, perhaps?”

Arthur croaks and firmly turns his head away. Well. Seems like frogs really can pout, as well.

Merlin eventually does track Gwen down and convince her to press a kiss to toad-Arthur’s lips- lots of wide-eyed begging and warnings of dire danger does the trick- but nothing (thankfully-or not?) happens. Guinevere’s current love, it seems, is too strong for any long-buried feelings to make a resurgence.

Merlin isn’t sure whether to be happy or sad.

+

They regroup back at Gaius’ chambers.

“Well, that’s one person down,” Merlin muses. “D’you suppose we try the kitchen-maids next? Except, you know, I know they’re all fond of _you_ , but I have no idea whether you were fond of any of them.”

Arthur had (and still has managed to retain, somehow) a certain innate charm that lent itself to droves of people flocking towards him wherever he went; hanging onto every laughing crinkle of his eyes, every wide appraising smile from those lips. Merlin would like to say that he’s resisted that, but, well.

He supposes having stuck around so long despite all the flying cutlery and dirty clothes does say something about his attachment to the prat. He does tend to grow on people. Like a mushroom.

Arthur _croaks_ angrily. There’s a familiar glint in those beady eyes of his. It’s the look Merlin has seen when facing bandits in the woods, or in the council chambers before a particularly troublesome battle. It’s Arthur’s Strategy face.

Merlin tenses. He’s having a bad feeling about this……

Then Arthur leaps, sending parchments and bits of herbs flying here and there, launching himself straight for Merlin’s lips.

“ _Mmmph!_ ” Merlin cries in surprise, shielding his lips with his open palm. Arthur is struggling so hard that Merlin practically has to pry him off with his hand. “Whatever was that for?”

Arthur croaks, glares blearily at him, nips at his exposed wrist, and gives him a kick for good measure.

Really angry, then, Merlin supposes.

Arthur doesn’t even look his way for the rest of the afternoon.

“Prat,” Merlin mutters, and sets to making a plan for getting all the maidservants in the castle to kiss the Royal Toad.

+

In the end, Merlin ends up relying very heavily on the maids’ goodwill.

“So, every time someone comes kiss, you’ll drop a coin in this bin?”

“Yeah, basically,” Merlin says, mentally counting over the remnants of his (admittedly meagre) savings. Is there a spell to enchant leaves to look like coins? It would be so very handy, in this exact circumstance. “And that goes to the lower town. Because, you know. They had a really bad hacking cough this year ‘round.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard,” Mary the seamstress says, tutting as she bustles closer. “Though admittedly, this is one of the strangest things I’ve ever tried! My Bert will have a fit, he will.”

“You’re sacrificing for a good cause, lady,” Merlin beams, trying very hard to quash the guilt that rises in his gut. He didn’t want to use the lower town’s sickness as an excuse, he _didn’t;_ but that was the only plausible excuse he could think of. Short of making kissing the Royal Toad a royal decree, of course, and if Merlin ever does that he thinks Arthur may well murder him for his troubles as soon as he has his body back.

Mary shakes her head and bends to press a quick kiss against a very angry, magically-but-discreetly trapped Arthur. _Shite. Failure again_.

“Maybe you need, uh,” Merlin can’t believe he’s saying this, “some tongue? To, uh, show your passion for the cause?”

Merlin gets a slap to the cheek in return for that.

“Please do spread the word!” Merlin calls after Mary’s rapidly retreating backside, which radiates righteous anger even from a distance. He doesn’t think she shall.

+

By nightfall, nearly all of the castle’s maids have had a turn at the royal toad. Merlin even has the suspicion that some had turned it into some sort of game, daring each other to kiss Arthur with more ‘fervor’ than whoever had gone before. Whatever that is. Still, Arthur is still stuck as a toad, and he’s still refusing to so much as _look_ in Merlin’s direction.

“It’s alright,” Merlin tells himself, as he trudges up the steps that lead to Gaius’ workshop. “There are plenty of people in this kingdom, right? I mean, I’m sure there’s someone. I’m sure there is.”

Arthur turns and gives him a very meaningful look.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Arthur huffs ( _can toads huff?_ ) and turns back around, stomping with his tiny webbed feet at Merlin’s defenseless palm.

“Fine, then,” Merlin mutters, and drags himself to sleep.


	3. My Knights in Shining Armor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the chapter title is one of my favorites so far. xD I'd actually been a bit apprehensive about uploading this, because somehow I'd persuaded myself that this chapter didn't have much in it (I wrote it a while back)....... but I sat myself down and re-read it this morning, and I said, hey, it's actually pretty good! So here it is. :) I make myself laugh sometimes.  
> It's morning where I live and I've never been much of a morning person...... could any of you understand what I was saying in this A/N? ;D

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Merlin says, as he shovels cold porridge into his mouth. The kitchen staff had eventually figured out that human food wasn’t really fit for the Royal Toad’s consumption, and that all their scrumptious goodness had gradually been making its way into a certain manservant’s stomach. So back to cold tasteless gruel it was.

The trick, Merlin has realized, is to stop thinking, and to shovel it past your throat as fast as humanly possible. (Or, in his case, warlock-ly.)

Gaius raises a trademark brow. “You have?”

“Yeah. So, maybe Arthur doesn’t just like- women?”

Arthur hops excitedly up and down from his spot on the table. Merlin can’t help but imagine Arthur in his full human glory doing just that, and a fond smile creeps across his lips. It’s unfair, really, how breathtakingly innocent the king can be for all his innate and learned Pratliness.

Bloody unfair. Making Merlin want to run after him with his _laundry_ , of all things, to polish his armor and be _happy_ about it, to make him want to- alright, and now things are just getting off track.

“See? Arthur agrees.”

“Hmmmm. That may actually be quite a valid theory, my boy.” Gaius hums thoughtfully into his hand. “After all, there was that stable-boy, several years back……”

Merlin feels the sudden irrational urge to go track the said stable-boy down and magick him into something unspeakably disgusting, which is totally irrelevant.

“Anyone you’re thinking of?” Gaius asks, as Merlin gets ready to take his Royal Toadliness through his morning ablutions. He likes water lukewarm, Merlin has found.

“Yes. So, I’ve been wondering who exactly Arthur spends most of his time with, and……”

“And?”

“The knights!” Merlin beams at Gaius. He is rather happy about his latest theory; who spends more time with Arthur than his beloved knights, after all? He’d thought Percival had been eyeing Arthur a bit, well, flirtatiously, as far as large quiet knights built like logs go…… and for all that the thought makes a strange foreign lump form deep in Merlin’s gut, well, he’d do anything to reverse the damage he’s wrought. “Don’t you think it would be possible? They’re always together, and what with all those cold baths they take together- AAAAOWWWWW!”

Merlin’s words fade off into an incoherent cry of pain as Arthur winds his (apparently highly flexible) tongue around Merlin’s finger and _wrenches_ , for lack of a better description. Merlin swears there are tears pooling in his eyes.

Bloody hell. If he ever gets to sit on the council as an advisor, he’s going to propose weaponizing toads. Quick, efficient, and above all, completely free! What councilman would refuse?

Now he’s just getting silly.

“Arthur’s been like that since yesterday,” Merlin complains, folding down into a crouch so he can scoop the recalcitrant monarch back up. “Jumping at me, refusing to cooperate- one might even think he doesn’t _want_ to be human.”

Arthur lets out a huge, mournful croak. He’s practically jumping up and down in frustration, and Merlin shh’s as he might a little babe, rocking the toad in his arms.

“Strange,” Merlin mutters, and doesn’t catch the considering glance Gaius suddenly turns his way.

+

“Alright,” Merlin tells Arthur, as he conjures a springy little patch of grass for him to sit on. The training fields aren’t too far off, and the ringing clash of swords permeate the air. Leon must have squire-training duty today, from the sounds of it. “So, you’re going to cooperate. And- dutifully kiss anyone who comes by, because by the goddess, we can’t afford to take any chances. Do you understand?”

Arthur, obstinate as ever, simply turns his head. Merlin sighs.

“Only you,” he mutters. Arthur could out-stubborn the best of them, including- but not limited to- Merlin himself. Arthur ought to be grateful that he somehow manages to pull that off in such a harmlessly fondness-inducing way, because goodness knows Merlin would have turned him into something much worse much earlier had things not been so.

Merlin catches Gwaine passing by a short while after.

“Pssst!” he calls, beckoning the knight towards the little alcove behind the weapons shed he and Arthur are nestled in. “Here! Gwaine, here!”

Gwaine laughs at them, flicking a stray strand of hair away from his sweat-stained forehead. Just back from training, then. “Merlin! And our esteemed royal toad.” There’s a glint in his eye has he bends over, bowing towards Arthur with a flourish. “What are you up to _now?_ ”

Despite the whole mess of a situation, Gwaine still somehow has a way of making things better. Merlin snorts. “Why do you always think I’m up to something?”

“Because you always are.” Gwaine gives Merlin a shrewd look, eyes lingering on the way Merlin has swaddled Arthur up in one of his mother’s neckerchiefs (it’s cold outside). “Hell, that’s your mother’s neckerchief- you’ve turned Arthur into a _toad!_ ”

Merlin could swear his heart just froze in his ribcage. _He knows, he knows, he knows,_ swings around his brain in a dizzying mantra. At least it’s winter. Maybe the pyre won’t catch fire because of the winds. Or catch fire better because the firewood is more brittle. For all of Arthur’s knowledge, he still hasn’t managed to get around to amending the laws, and-

Merlin gulps, trying to look as innocent as he can. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gwaine,” he says. “Of course I can’t have magic. I’m an _idiot._ ”

Gwaine snorts. “Yes, you can, because you have your hands full keeping our collective arses safe and alive, and that’s what you want us to think! Really, I’m not that oblivious. Are you-“ he hesitates at Merlin’s wide-eyed expression. “Did I- _scare_ you? Shite, mate, you could turn me into a dung beetle with a thought!”

Merlin gives him a (hopefully) bruising kick to the shin, and leaves it at that.

Gwaine kisses Arthur- with lots of tongue, which Merlin wants to erase from his memory forever, but apparently that’s how things ‘must be done’. Gwaine laughs all the way, though, chortling about how fitting it is that the ‘princess got turned into a toad’ (it seems that there’s a children’s tale somewhere). Arthur rewards him with numerous snips and kicks to the fingers.

Nothing happens, and Merlin frowns at that little part of him that’s relieved. _What was that?_ Merlin wants Arthur back. He really does; as much as he’s loathe to admit it, he misses Arthur’s company, even the unpleasant goblet-hurling bits.

Gwaine’s gaze is uncomfortably knowing.

“Have you tried?” he asks Merlin, nudging him gently in the side. Merlin bites his lip. “Well.”

Gwaine raises a brow. “Thought you had to ‘try everything?’”

“I do.” Merlin says. “And Arthur did- well, try to jump me last afternoon.”

Gwaine chortles, shaking with laughter. “My goodness, the _mouth_ on you!”

“Shut up or you’re a dung beetle,” Merlin says, then snaps his mouth shut. Heaven knows he’s learnt his lessons about being careful with his words.

“No, but really.” Gwaine tilts his head, letting it fall back against the wooden wall of the weapons shed. “Why not?”

“Well, I know for sure he isn’t interested, do I?” And that admission shouldn’t hurt as much as he did, but….. darn, it must be some side effect of the curse, or something. Serves him right for cursing his best friend and not knowing how to bring him back.

“You really that sure?” Gwaine prods, and Merlin snaps.

“I practically used to _live_ with him,” he says, and stalks off with Arthur gathered to his side. “Excuse me. I have some more kissing to arrange.”

+

Merlin manages to get Leon down by appealing to his sense of duty.

“I’m supposed to kiss this- Royal Toad?” Leon asks. “To help Arthur?”

Merlin nods. Leon complies, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like ‘should have accepted that job offer from Caerleon when I had the chance.’

Almost predictably, nothing happens.

Sometimes, Merlin thinks, Leon really is too precious for this world. Goddess rest his soul.

+

Elyan and Percival pass by in a blur. Merlin had managed to corner both of them by the bucket of water on the training fields, and both comply without much complaint at Merlin’s half-arsed excuses about showing allegiance and some such rot. (Why would one want to swear allegiance to a toad, anyway? They don’t know it’s secretly Arthur, and it’s not like any average toad could command much except through loud and insistent croaks.) Merlin has a deep niggling suspicion that they did it more as a favor for a friend than anything else.

Especially seeing how Percival leaned down to rinse his lips, after, when he’d thought Merlin wasn’t looking.

Merlin returns to Gaius’ chambers wet and freezing and stiff, the knifing winds out on the training fields having frozen him through solid. Arthur scrabbles frantically around for a piece of parchment before rapidly hopping across a sequence of letters.

I-D-I-O……

“Arthur, are you calling me an idiot?”

U R

“Prat,” Merlin says, impossibly fond.

Gaius has left the window open, presumably for fresh air. Merlin watches from a spot on the floor as the sky is streaked across with strands of gold and salmon-pink, blue fading gently into dusk. Another day gone past, without much to speak for.

“Only several more days left,” Merlin muses, quietly. “Whatever shall we do, Arthur?”

Arthur perks up a little, hopping back towards the discarded piece of parchment he’d been using.

I O V E U

“Ioeveu? Sounds Gaelic,” Merlin muses, shaking his head. “I haven’t actually learnt to speak it, unlike _you_ , you royal dollop-head,” Merlin admonishes gently. “You’ll have to speak to me in a language _I_ know too.”

Arthur huffs and rolls around onto his back.


	4. Dragons, Bandits- Oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many heartfelt thanks to all who've read, kudosed, reviewed over the course of the story- it always makes me very happy to think that my story may have brought someone some enjoyment, and your feedback really made my week! <3<3  
> On to the next chapter. :)

At this point, Merlin supposes, it’s inevitable that he go speak to Kilgharrah. Kilgharrah seems to know more about his magic than anyone else; maybe he can tell him how to reverse things without making the situation any worse.

He’s beginning to get the feeling that people are just humoring him with the Royal Toad excuse, too. Should have known that was too absurd an excuse to believe, anyhow.

But there’s still a scant few hours left until nightfall, so Merlin decides to busy himself and do some research.

Merlin has full faith that Gaius must have scanned all the tomes on transformation spells there is, so he turns his attention towards theories about love. After all, if Merlin only manages to catch some sign that Arthur is in love with someone, he can go get them to kiss Arthur back, can’t he? It’s a good plan as any.

“ _Treatises on love,_ by Lord Robert of Fairbairne,” Merlin mutters, leafing through the thick, dog-eared tome on the bottom of the pile. “Goodness, this is sick.” Arthur hops a little bit forward, tilting his head in curiosity. “Do you see this, here? He’s saying that victims tend to develop an ‘unhealthy level of affection’ towards their captors, and he’s made it his business to carry out extensive studies on villagers kidnapped by bandits…… by the goddess. They must have been the _nice_ ones. Me, never even managed to find one I’d want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Wait.”

Merlin pauses. Arthur has been kidnapped an exceeding number of times, and there was that certain group of bandits that kept springing up no matter what they did……

And their leader could be called dashing, he supposes. If one is particularly fond of sharp teeth, horrible body odor, and a very manly growth of hair, that is. Well. Love will lead where love will. And Merlin never really has understood how exactly Arthur’s thought processes work, the dollop-headed prat.

His eyes widen. “Arthur, do you think we ought to, you know, approach the subject from a completely different direction? Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong place all along. Love is fostered in hate, and all that……”

Arthur croaks indignantly; a feat Merlin hadn’t even known to be possible. His smoldering gaze tells Merlin what exactly Arthur thinks of his idea.

Merlin sighs, rubbing his palms over his aching eyes. “Fine. But just for the record, if I end up reading my eyes out, I’m going to charge all the bills for visits to the physician to the royal crown.”

+

Soon enough, darkness falls, and Merlin manages to smuggle Arthur out into the darkened woods without being caught. Informing Arthur that the Great Dragon he’d ‘vanquished’ may or may not be well and alive, however, proves to be a different matter altogether.

Merlin is sporting quite an impressive array of bruises and bite-marks by the time Kilgharrah flies around.

“Ah, young warlock,” Kilgarrah hums, an amused gleam in his eye. “What have you managed to get yourself into this time around?”

Merin thrusts his hands forward, Arthur nestled cozily in the curve of his palms. He’s settled into a resigned sort of weariness after his initial outburst. A beneficial arrangement towards the wellbeing of Merlin’s skin, of that he’s quite confident.

Kilgharrah’s massive head snakes around, a keen golden eye looking over Arthur appraisingly. “Ah.”

Merlin bites his lip. It’s mortifying enough that he’s managed to near-irreversibly curse his best friend, and to have his old friend and mentor actually looking over the result…… Well. So much for being the greatest warlock to ever have walked the earth. The most disastrous, much more likely.

“I need to find his one true love,” Merlin mutters, miserably. “And I’ve tried everything- _everything_ \- and it still won’t work. How- do the prophecies say anything about this? Or, I don’t know, some Once and Future Queen? I can’t let Arthur be stuck like this for all eternity, Kilgharrah. Arthur can hardly unite Albion if he isn’t even able to _talk!_ ”

Kilgharrah snorts, a sound that sounds surprisingly like laughter coming from such a massive creature. “I’m afraind, young warlock, that true love’s kiss really is the only way to break that spell.”

Merlin hangs his head. Arthur croaks, leaning his head against Merlin’s forehead.

“But, Kilgharrah,” Merlin sighs, “I’m beginning to believe that maybe Arthur hasn’t got around to meeting this one true love yet. I think he’s been matched against pretty much every soul in the citadel now.”

Suddenly, Arthur starts jumping up and down, croaking frantically. As if he’s trying to tell Merlin something. Merlin frowns at him. “I can’t understand a word of what you’re saying, Arthur.”

If Arthur were human, Merlin thinks, he’d have smoke coming out of his ears. He makes to jump towards Merlin’s mouth again. Merlin frowns.

“Not now, Arthur,” Merlin mutters. “Not the time for jokes.”

Arthur near-screams again and struggles to get free. Merlin wraps a gentle hand around his midriff. He can’t afford to have his king gobbled up by a hungry owl. He’d never be able to forgive himself, never-mind that he’d be devastated were Arthur to die. And that’s how friends feel for each other, right? Like they would be torn apart if the other were to be lost, soul scattering to the wind…..

_And now he’s just getting dramatic_. Kilgharrah has most definitely been a bad influence on him.

He hums, and Merlin could swear he’s seen a very toothy smile. “A half cannot truly hate that which makes him whole,” he quotes. “Look to your heart, young warlock. The truth may be found in unexpected places.”

And then he flies off, wing-beats fading into the darkness. Merlin curses and flings a pebble with his magic, just for the sake of it. _Damned infuriating lizard_.

Within him? And what did he say- that answers could be found in the most unexpected of places?

Merlin’s eyes widen, and he curses under his breath. Damn it. He’d hoped not, but……

Can he give Arthur away to a bandit? Can he?

To be honest with himself (which Merlin tries most fervently to avoid, because, well, that way lies a whole lot of pain and also the very distinct possibility of madness)- no, Merlin doesn’t want to give Arthur away to anyone, even the Triple Goddess herself. Arthur is _his_ , in all of his prattish, endearing, golden glory.

But.

For Arthur……

To see him laugh again, head thrown back, that tan stretch of neck flexing with every breath, golden hair blinding in the sun……

Merlin nods.

For Arthur, anything.

+

They leave for the Valley of the Fallen Kings the very next day. Merlin doesn’t want to use his magic to _force_ anyone to kiss Arthur, _ever_ , so they simply wander about, hoping that one of the bandits come to some sort of mid-life epiphany and rush forth to kiss his king.

Well, at least Merlin hopes. Arthur simply sulks. He’s been literally fuming the whole day, and it must say something about how well Merlin knows Arthur if he’s able to tell apart his moods even when he’s stuck in the body of a toad. He turns his head away from treats, steps on Merlin’s toes (and various other appendages) every time he can, and still, strangely, inexplicably, keeps flinging himself towards the general vicinity of Merlin’s face.

“Is that a side effect of the spell?” Merlin wonders, stooping down to refill his water-skin. The stream is very near well frozen over, and he has to mutter a quick spell to break the ice. Arthur struggles and squirms in his grip.

“Oh, be still, you.” It’s so like Arthur, though, struggling every step of the way (the stubborn prat), that Merlin can’t quite help the fond smile that rises unbidden to his lips. “I do understand that you’re aggravated, but it won’t help us much if you end up stepping all over my face or something.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to croak. Merlin snaps his mouth shut, suddenly becoming indescribably aggravated. He doesn’t exactly enjoy trying to match Arthur up with other people, does he? (Merlin very resolutely refuses to think on the reason for that.) But he’s doing it anyway. For Arthur.

He could at least be a bit more appreciative, the clot-pole.

Merlin repels three separate bandit attacks before high noon. It’s times like this that Merlin is truly grateful that Arthur knows his secret, because blasting offenders from a distance is so much more easier than trying to discreetly trip them up while simultaneously trying to stop your head from being taken off by a sword.

And then, during the fourth attack, something very, very unexpected happens.

Merlin had loosened his grip on Arthur a bit, because this particular group of bandits happened to have a sorcerer of their own, and Merlin had had to bring one hand up to shield them both. Arthur- always the brilliant strategist- makes a giant leap, lands spread-eagled on Merlin’s face, and presses his cool, wet, toad-y lips to Merlin’s.

A blinding light surrounds them all. Merlin feels a wave of power wash out from where he had been standing, clear and white, ringing with the clarity of a shattered curse.

Something very big, heavy, and golden stumbles onto the ground.

Merlin blinks. Blinks again. Because he can’t exactly believe what he’s seeing with his own two eyes.

“ _Arthur?_ ” He whispers.

Arthur scrambles to his feet, red-faced, furious, and gloriously, completely naked. There’s that familiar pulse pounding away at his temple.

“WHY DON’T YOU EVER LISTEN TO ME, YOU SUPERCILIOUS, CLOT-POLE OF AN _IDIOT!_ ” he thunders, jabbing a very kingly finger towards Merlin. Merlin gapes.

“You needed a kiss,” Merlin mutters, numb. “From your- one True Love.”

Arthur’s frown intensifies, if even possible. “I’ve been trying to tell you, all this time- I, love, you, you, _idiot_ , even though I’m seriously beginning to consider _why._ ” Arthur’s eyes are narrowed to mere slits, and they are very, very blue. Again, a finger comes up to poke at Merlin’s chest. “ _Do you understand?_ ”

Merlin doesn’t, and neither of them quite manage to notice the fireball that’s flying towards them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little question- after this, I have two stories waiting to go (mostly written & roughly self-edited as of now.) But I just wanted to ask which you'd prefer to read first! I'll add on a short summary on the bottom, so just let me know which you're more curious about in the comments section? Not a must, of course, and only if you want to/have the time/feel comfortable about it!  
> *  
> 1\. What Goes Around, Comes Around  
> Genre: Angst, Friendship, Saving each other's lives  
>  Long ago, in a time of myth and a land of magic, a young prince saves a convicted sorcerer’s life.  
>  Many years later, on the fields of Camlann, a debt is repaid.  
>  Young Arthur&Merlin, alternate meeting!AU.  
> *  
> 2\. Snowflakes  
> Genre: Ridiculous fluff, Modern AU, Merthur.  
> The modern Merlin snow spirit! AU.  
> Or: Five ridiculous things about Merlin, and why Arthur keeps him around anyway. 5+1 things.  
> *  
> Many thanks, as always, and hope you all have a wonderful wonderful week!  
> Next update will be three days later as usual- so, in this case, Saturday.


	5. Happily Ever After (We'll Do Without the Toads)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all who have read, kudosed, commented, etc. on the last chapter- you made me so ridiculously happy! And a huge *thank you* to all who've participated in my little impromptu vote as well! It tallied up to four for What Goes Around, Comes Around and two for snowflakes, so probably look forward to the former about a week or so from now (possibly earlier if I get impatient xD) and the latter another week or so after that.  
> That being said- the last chapter! It's a silly little thing with a longer bonus than the actual chapter, but I hope you all enjoy the conclusion to this ridiculous romp of a tale :D

Later, it’s a very frazzled (and singed) pair that makes their way back towards Camelot.

“I cannot believe you didn’t manage to block that,” Arthur mutters, glaring blearily at Merlin.

“Hey- just because I’m supposed to be powerful-“

“Still as much of an idiot, apparently,” Arthur complains. Merlin huffs, and they trudge in silence for a while more. The winter winds are biting, especially in the shallow cleft of the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and Merlin has conjured the warmest possible clothing he could think of for Arthur. The abundance of fleece does make him look a bit like an overinflated balloon, and his nose is reddened by the wind, but Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever been gladder to see a person in his entire _life_.

Arthur is back. To stay, too, if Merlin has any say in the matter.

Which brings the matter back to- _well_.

“Arthur.” Merlin says, quietly. There’s a swelling balloon of something deep inside his chest that feels so very fragile, as if it might burst apart at the slightest touch. “The spell broke. After you-“

“Kissed you?” Arthur’s tone is perfectly dry, but Merlin still knows him well enough to discern the apprehension behind his eyes. Merlin nods, still quite unable to speak.

Arthur shrugs, averting his eyes. His previous aggravation seems to have given way to something a lot more tentative, unsure. “It did.”

“What does that mean?” Merlin muses, dancing around the answer he very much wants to believe but can’t quite bring himself to acknowledge. Arthur huffs. His hand lifts, as if wanting to cuff Merlin across the head as he so often used to, but he lowers it again.

“The obvious.” _Idiot_ , is what Arthur doesn’t say but Merlin hears all the same.

Merlin’s heart is pounding so hard he feels like his whole body is rattling to its beat. He licks his lips. “Which is?”

Arthur’s arm winds around Merlin’s shoulder, as he spins the warlock around. Quickly, Arthur’s lips press against Merlin’s, a fleeting, chaste pressure that’s gone as soon as it’s registered. Merlin’s eyes widen. Something potent, dizzying, is winding through his veins, and it’s like a dam has broken; he can’t _stop_.

Arthur pulls back. Merlin stares into those winter-sky eyes, ringed with quivering blond lashes dusted with snow.

“I love you,” he says.

A heartbeat’s pause. And then Merlin is grinning, so wide he’s afraid his face will split in half, heart pounding breathlessly away in his chest.

“I think I might too,” he breathes out, and clashes their lips together once more.

They don’t stop for a very long while.

**The End.**

_Don’t stop- we have bonuses!_ ↓

Bonus Snippet One- Every Prat Has His Reason

It’s one afternoon in late spring when Merlin finally comes to a Very Disturbing Revelation.

And- well, it all starts with Bert the stable-boy.

Merlin had known full well how horrid he’d been to Caitlyn, from the kitchens, jeering and cat-calling at her whenever she’d gone to get water from the well for Cook. He’d prodded at her, teased her mercilessly, jibed about her name……

Until he went down on one knee and asked Caitlyn permission to court her, and the flustered girl had said _yes_.

“Why on _earth_ would she say yes?” Merlin mutters, shaking his head. “I mean, after all that boy’d made her go through…… I would have given him a piece of his mind, I would.”

Gwen, who had been folding laundry side-by-side, gives him an incredulous look. “You mean you didn’t know?”

Merlin’s face colors. He may be a farm boy from Ealdor, but that doesn’t mean he likes being reminded of it. The intricacies of court (servant) life confound him more often than not.

“Didn’t know what?”

“Bert,” Gwen clarifies, hiding a laugh behind her hand. “He’d been pigtail-pulling Caitlyn, you know. Because he fancied her? Boys do that sometimes, you know. It’s ridiculous, but.” She spreads her hands. “Young love, yes?”

Oh.

_Oh_.

And then Merlin’s memories flash past behind his eyes, whizzing backwards and backwards, until……

_Arthur had resorted to delegating Merlin a foot-long list of chores that no-one could ever hope to finish using conventional means. Using magic for chores had become more of a necessity than a luxury, and Merlin had to keep looking over his shoulders during every minute of it, because if Arthur ever caught him at it he’d undoubtedly have snorted at his ‘laziness’ and somehow found a way to torment him even further._

_He kicked Merlin out of his chambers because he ‘didn’t want to be tortured by his presence any longer’. He sent Merlin to ridiculous trips all across the citadel. And then, when Merlin returned, huffing and puffing and sweaty all over, he levered him with a very seriously considering look before telling him that his ears were ridiculous, cheekbones emaciated, and nostrils like those of a donkey._

Yes, Arthur had done all that, before promptly getting turned into a frog and then professing his love for his manservant in spectacular fashion.

Oh, by the goddess. Merlin does not believe this.

+

Arthur averts his eyes when Merlin storms into his chambers later that night and demands answers.

“You- you sent me halfway across the town for a roll of silk, you prat! Which you didn’t even _use!_ ” Merlin huffs, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And you’re telling me that was because you _liked_ me?”

“Well,” Arthur drawls, which is something he does when he really doesn’t have anything good to say. “The minds of Kings are mysterious things.”

“Mysterious things, my arse.” Merlin has to hop about to cover said arse as Arthur’s eyes flicker appreciatively towards it. He could really be such a man sometimes (not that Merlin wasn’t). “And- you told me that I was ugly! That my nostrils looked like a donkey’s!”

Arthur flushes a little. “I- may or may not have been trying to convince myself,” he says. Merlin harrumphs, stomping over to sit himself down on the bed. Servant or not, he does have his dignity.

“I don’t believe you,” Merlin huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Arthur blinks his eyes, flush already gone, giving him a look like snow wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

It’s unfair how long those ridiculous eyelashes are-

_Damn_ it. He can’t even bring himself to stay angry any longer than absolutely necessary.

“Me neither. But don’t you still love me?”

“Ought to be glad I do, you dollop-headed prat,” Merlin mutters, fighting a valiant battle to keep his fondness out of his voice and failing spectacularly. Arthur smirks, his expression edged with vulnerability for all the cockiness in his smile.

“Come to bed?” he says, trailing a finger over the curve of Merlin’s collarbone.

Merlin curses, once or twice or maybe thrice, and does as his king bids.

Bonus Snippet Two- Revenge, Sweet Revenge

Merlin’s eyes trail disbelievingly over his list of chores. He does so again. And then blinks.

His wrist is beginning to ache; is it even possible for a simple list to weigh so much?

Well, it really isn’t that strange, considering that it’s long enough to trail on the bloody _floor_

Merlin is most certainly allowed to feel upset about this.

“What is this?” he asks, squinting at the exceedingly long list of chores. It may even be more than the week Arthur had gone (even more so than usual) mad and tried to express his affections through none other than the age-approved method of pigtail-pulling. (And Merlin doesn’t even _have_ any pigtails to pull, which only serves to show how unbelievably prattish his king can be.)

Arthur smirks, infuriatingly smug. “Well,” he drawls, “Not like you can’t, really, yes?” Then he wriggles his fingers. Merlin wonders if it will actually stick were he to tell him that really wasn’t how magic worked.

Most probably not.

“Well, yes, I _could,_ except we’re still drafting those new laws and I’d be sent to the dungeons or worse if someone saw, well, _manure shoveling itself out of the stable._ ”

_Wait_. Merlin narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to get revenge for something.”

Arthur’s answering face is a little too innocent for Merlin’s liking. “What makes you think so?”

Merlin arches a brow. It only takes a little longer for Arthur to break down. The indignant look on his face- those lowered brows, that faint line above his nose, those ridiculously pouting lips- ought to be nothing short of ridiculous, except it _isn’t_. It only serves to illustrate how unfair the world really is.

“You made me _kiss_ ,” Arthur groans, throwing up his hands. “Kiss, and with half of the castle at that!” he pauses in his tirade to glower at Merlin. “Did you really dislike me so much that you’d rather rent me out to half the castle rather than give me a try yourself?”

_What?_

The list slips from Merlin’s numbed fingers as he stands, gaping at Arthur like a fish fresh out of the pond.

“Whatever in hell,” Merlin asks, “made you _think_ so?” He isn’t even sure whether he ought to be flattered or exasperated; at this point, it’s most probably both.

Arthur gives him his trademark Look, which states better than any words that Arthur is the King and Merlin is an idiot. Merlin remembers all the times he’d refused to let Arthur the Toad near his lips, all those ridiculous things he’d gone and done to try and get Arthur to turn back into his (unfortunately glorious) human form.

He folds.

“It’s not that,” he mumbles. “It’s just- I thought there was no way on earth you’d actually _love_ me.”

Arthur’s eyes soften, and something tender and exasperatedly fond comes to rest behind them. He takes one large stride forward, one thumb coming to brush across the curve of Merlin’s cheekbone. The faint morning light flickers across Arthur’s hair and shrouds his sharp features in soft, smudged shadow.

Merlin swallows.

“You’re such an idiot,” he whispers, voice fond. Merlin smiles, hiding the twitch of his lips in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“ _We_ are,” he says, and they are. But they’re alright just the way they are.

**The End (For Real.)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the read- and thank you so much for bearing with me, and this story, so far! <3<3<3 All the virtual hugs and kisses and well-wishes :)
> 
> ***********************************************************
> 
> Alright, so this is a highly optional author's note that you may skip if you wish because it's *totally irrelevant* to the story- so here goes.  
> Would anyone be interested in betaing for me for this year's Merthur glompfest by any chance? It's the fest requirement for all works to be beta'ed, but I have practically zero experience in finding someone to beta for me, so...... here I am. :O *insert sheepish face here*  
> My only requirement is that you aren't participating in this year's glompfest, since that would spoil the surprise and the fun- and that you'd be able to finish the job by sometime before march. I'd probably be asking you about whether there were any parts you didn't understand, scenes you want expanded or cut, characterization, etc.- nothing professional, just pretty much how you felt about the draft as a reader! Length is approx. 13k give or take, and, yes, it is Merthur, with a mild T rating.  
> Please contact me at anyyahwang@gmail.com if you're interested! I'm also on tumblr at @the-seaworthy-muffin, except I'm a tumblr newbie and I don't exactly know whether it's possible to send files over via the app......? But I'd be willing to try if you showed me the ropes, so yes, you can find me on tumblr too if you are uncomfortable with email!  
> MANY APOLOGIES for using the A/N as something of a private message board, and, again (though it's probably too late by now since this is tacked on to the end) please feel free to ignore this extra-long note-thing if you're busy, uninterested, etc.!!
> 
> UPDATE as of 2021/02/14: three lovely people have volunteered to help me with the beta problem, so the plea for help is *on hiatus* as of now! (Is that even a proper way of putting it? :( ) As in: I am no longer looking for people to help me with the draft. But truly, thank you so so much for being such kind, wonderful people! <3<3<3


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